Rapunzel's Tower keep art alive :: art by Sarah Joncas
"Unholy and dirty words I gathered to me,
thinking the point was keep what's mine for me,
while he's laughing."
Seal My Fate (live) :: Belly
We are all a bit messy, torn around the edges, with broken pieces of the people we once were and the one's we become floating about in our inner selves. Despite this fact, this unspoken bond of flaws and scars, we still seem to expect some element of perfection. We try to hide the blemishes, the insecurities, those deep-rooted fears inside ourselves. The ugly truths, the dirty thoughts, the lies, the infidelities, the darker bits we consider not fit for the light of day, or the line of sight of anyone else.
Some days we run fast enough, sing loud enough, smile hard enough to separate ourselves from our darker side, even if it is only a temporary separation. I know there are days when I feel lighter, trust more, breathe deeper, and look in the mirror and think "okay, yeah, I'm okay with this." But other days I feel the weight of my past, the scars of heartaches - both given and received, and I see all my secrets fall out of each strand of hair.
On days like those, the latter shadowy ones, I lock what's me and mine inside myself. My body becomes its own secret tower, my eyes the guards on patrol, and my mouth (and subsequent words) my disguise. I walk around and think it works, that no one sees behind the curtain, and yet I hear the echoes of doubt and worry laugh somewhere in the background - the backseat driver, the critic sat on the side of the stage, the back row heckler throwing tomatoes and sneers, and the self-deprecating psyche frowning in disapproval.
Today though, this moment in the middle of my day, I feel caught somewhere in-between the lonely tower and the free-falling leap. I know I have thrown out more then a morning's share of ugly words this morning directed at my self in frustration over decisions I'm trying to make and the doubts that are plaguing me to the point of near non-existent sleep and jangled, half-zombie mornings.
Am I sealing my fate by the choices I'm making? Will these next steps be mine, or am I fooling myself in thinking this isn't just one more trip and fall mistake, patterns designed from emotional landscapes instead of carved out in thinking and planning? Is my tower just shape shifting into some new form of self-fulfilled lock down? Or am I finally stripping some of the layers off, letting my hair fall down, and trusting again?
Whichever way it goes in the end at least the music is still playing.
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